


Comfort

by Tater_Tati



Series: KHR 12 Days of Xmas [2]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Angst, Comfort Sex, Emotional Sex, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Minor Character Death, Reader-Insert, Soulmates, Yamamoto Is A Small Lil Angsty Boi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-07 19:15:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16859794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tater_Tati/pseuds/Tater_Tati
Summary: Day 2 of my KHR 12 Days of Xmas.Set in the Future Arc. Soulmate AU where your soulmate feels the same pain as you. Yamamoto deals with his father’s death in the only way he knows how to. You’re there to show him otherwise. NSFW.Cross-posted to my tumblr @sawadatuna-yoshi.





	Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> lol this came out as 80% angst, 20% sex i'm sORRY

When news had arrived at Vongola Base that Yamamoto’s father had died in one of the Millefiore’s raids, it was a blow to your already wavering morale. Although you all were aware of their ruthlessness, it was still shocking to hear just how evil they could be.   
  
Yamamoto himself wasn’t taking it so well. Everyone was concerned about his reaction, but he’d done his best to put on a brave face. He didn’t want anyone to worry about him, especially after Tsuna’s death. Still, you noticed at times his face would darken, as if he was brooding over something. Even worse, you noticed his ring glowing at times with his rain flames. You were certain he was using them to deflect attention from himself, put everyone at ease.

But you were his soulmate, and there was only so much their tranquilizing influence could do to the empathic connection the two of you shared. Past the flames, you could sense the anger, the grief, the desperation that was gnawing at him, eating him up.   
  
Maybe if Tsuna was here, things would be better. Tsuna always knew how to talk Yamamoto out of his ruts. But your boss was also gone, another casualty in the Millefiore’s reign.

  
That left you to reach out to Yamamoto. But…you paused, your hand poised to knock on his door, worrying your lip between your teeth. Would Takeshi really appreciate you meddling? Sure, the two of you were friends—even closer than friends, you would say, more like friends that flirted a lot and had sexual tension that stemmed from your attraction—but that was it. The future had turned to utter chaos before you could even pursue anything. You couldn’t predict how he would react to your intrusion into his personal life.   
  
Before you could knock on his door, you heard his voice approach you.  
  
“(Y/N)? What are you doing here?”  
  
Yamamoto was clad in loose-fitting sweatpants and a tank top that defined his lean muscles. Sweat glistened on his skin, and a towel wrapped around his neck. You figured he must have come from the indoor gym, maybe a training session. He had been going more often lately. You straightened, trying your best to collect yourself.  

“Takeshi. Hey. I wanted to speak to you.” Your words were uncharacteristically serious, and put him on edge. You glanced around. “Do you think we could do this in your room?”

“Of course.” Leaning over, unlocked the passcode to his room, and you followed him in. “What did you want to talk about, (Y/N)?”

You knew that he suspected what you wanted to talk about. Yamamoto may act oblivious, but he was perceptive, incredibly so. The question was how you should approach the matter.

“Takeshi… I think you know why I’m here,” you began, after mulling over your words.  

“ _Don’t_.” The half-smile on his face was strained, his eyes dark. _He knew._ “You’re worried about me, aren’t you? Don’t be.” He leaned down to ruffle your hair, and the action would have been reassuring, if there wasn’t something painful about it. About everything. His smile, his actions, his tone. Your heart _ached._ “I’m fine, really. Don’t worry—“

  
“Takeshi.” You grasped his hand from its place on your head. Almost as if he was trying to comfort _you_ instead of the other way around. “ _Don’t lie to me_. You know you can’t,” you said, softer now. “You know that...I can feel it just as much as you can. You placed his hand over your chest, where, just in time, something clenched painfully in your chest. “You’re _hurting._ ”

  
His jaw clenched. “Guess I haven’t been doing a good job at hiding this from you, huh? Damn, (Y/N)... I’m sorry. I guess I really am a failure.” He laughed humorlessly. He sounded so _bitter,_ it was so unlike the cheery Yamamoto you were used to. You wanted to yell at him to stop, to scream at him that nothing was his fault. That he couldn’t say those things and look at you with eyes that swam in grief and sadness. But something about the full extent of his emotions had you frozen, speechless.

His fists clenched, his voice heavy with resentment. “Part of me wants to go out there and find them.” His eyes narrowed. “The people that did this. It’s my fault. I promised I would protect my old man, and what did I do?” He laughed bitterly again. “I couldn’t even go out and save him, or help him, because we’re trapped underneath this stupid base. I hate it. I can’t do anything.”

His anger riled something up inside of you, and you grasped his hand fiercely. “Don’t say that Takeshi,” you snapped. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this.” You were frustrated. You had come here to comfort _him,_ but now you were the one getting emotional. “You couldn’t have prevented this. No one knew what Byakuran was capable of. Stop beating yourself up over this. _Please.”_  
  
You didn’t know what possessed you to do this. Perhaps it was the way Yamamoto’s eyebrows furrowed, a sign of his inner turmoil. You slammed your lips against his. The kiss was needy, desperate. You wanted to show him that you didn’t think it was his fault. That he didn’t deserve to blame himself for things out of his control. But most of all, you wanted to get that troubled look off his face.   
  
He didn’t respond at first, his eyes wide. But when you moaned his name against his lips, a desperate “Takeshi,” something inside him snapped. He gripped your upper arms, fervently slanting his lips against yours as he backed you until you hit the edge of his bed.   
  
He wanted to forget. Even if it was for just a moment.  
  
One thing had led to another. You were all sloppy kisses, hurried caresses, and hastily unzipped clothes. At some point, you couldn’t tell if it was the salt of his sweat you tasted on your lips, or his tears. All you knew was that, you were finally naked before each other, and you were sinking down onto him. The both of you moaned when you bottomed out.

You set a slow pace, languidly taking him in, but Yamamoto had other plans. His grip on your hips tightened and he was rolling his hips into yours in deep, intense strokes. His eyes clenched shut, his teeth biting into his lip as sweat beaded on his temple. You walls clenched around him and his eyes darted open, startled brown locking with yours. Slowly, carefully, you grasped one of his hands, placing it over on your breasts. He squeezed and kneaded the flesh, his eyes half-lidded as he groaned and cursed.

It felt delicious. Being attached this closely to each other. You fed off each other’s euphoria. When your hand reached down to play with yourself, he stopped you, his own hand covering yours until you relented. His long fingers began kneading circles into your clit, groaning appreciatively when you tightened around him in response.   
  
Perhaps it had been his pent-up stress, but it wasn’t long before he came. Yamamoto leaned his head back, exposing the long column of his neck, groans and chants of your name falling from his lips. “(Y/N),” he groaned, stilling, as you felt his warm release inside of you.

His fingers had faltered momentarily, before they resumed their assault on your clit. “Takeshi, Takeshi,” you moaned, bowing your head as you came.

It was silent for a moment, the only sound your combined panting as you struggled to come down from your highs. You extricated yourself from Yamamoto as you rolled to the side, collapsing onto the bed beside him.  

Takeshi was still quiet. Gently, you leaned forward, brushing his sweat-dampened hair, and he turned to you, burying his face in your chest. You felt water droplets on your chest.  
  
“He’s gone, (Y/N). He’s gone.” The words were quiet, mumbled against your chest, but they rang with an air of finality. “He’s gone and it’s all my fault. If only I was stronger.” He cursed. “If only….”

Your arms wrapped around him, cradling his form to you. Your fingers ran through the short strands of his hair as you thought of what to say. You knew that you couldn’t say something to ease his grief, but you wanted to let him know… he wasn’t alone.

“We all deal with loss, Takeshi. But it helps if you let us grieve with you. Don’t keep everything bottled up.”

He was silent as he absorbed your words, and for a second you worried he had fallen asleep. That changed however, when shifted upwards, pressing his lips against your forehead. “Thanks, (Y/N),” he murmured against your skin, cradling your form to him this time. When you looked up, his eyes were closed, his chin resting atop your head.

He looked so peaceful, so much less troubled. You hoped that he would retain some of that peace, even when your lives were about to get much more complicated.


End file.
